Seven Years

Abchanchu sneers through the blackness

nature retreats from his sight

For he is the dark

the night

the not living

With each solemn step

grass dies underfoot

murkiness left behind

no life

just the absence of all

Even the moon hides

so not to be observed

The apparition consumes


that catches his gaze

Once every seven years

he rises

once every seven years

stay hidden

to not be seen

My Poetry

Simple Pilgrim View All →

Once Lost in Nowhere, then Perditus

Now just a Simple Pilgrim

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